


What's Ours (No One Else Can Claim)

by Bennyhatter



Series: Feral [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Animalistic, Feral Behavior, Friendship, Gen, Grooming, Licking, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sparring, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: If Keith is like an alley cat, feral and quick to lash out with sharp claws at any who spark his ire, then Shiro is a forest panther.





	What's Ours (No One Else Can Claim)

**Author's Note:**

> What the actual hell am I doing. I literally just got into this fandom. I'm drowning. I'm only halfway through season two. But dear gods it's good. It's so good.
> 
> I don't know what this is, just bear with me. It might become more somewhere down the line, I don't know.
> 
> Forgive the sparse tags; I wrote and posted this on my phone, so I was limited with what I could choose.

If Keith is like an alley cat, feral and quick to lash out with sharp claws at any who spark his ire, then Shiro is a forest panther. Keith is small and wiry, his muscles tight and his body built for speed. He's lean, all sharp angles -- any softness ground away by a harsh life and harsher tempers. He controls himself a lot better than people give him credit for, but he and his Lion paired for a reason. They're both temperamental and distrustful; quick to anger and slow to calm. Even amongst his friends, Keith is reserved, watching every interaction with dark, wary eyes. Always expecting to step too far and get shunned for a nature he cannot help.

 

Shiro is nothing like him. The black Lion's pairmate is bigger in every way, his body thick with muscle and scarred from victories he doesn't gloat over. He holds himself in check constantly, stormy eyes reserved unless he's with their friends. He's gentle, and _good_ , until he doesn't need to be. Every step is fluid, graceful -- a panther slowly circling until his prey is cornered. He has a hunter's patience, content to let his meal tire itself out before he leaps. Usually.

 

Keith has seen Shiro when he's not so composed. When his nature is more violent than Keith's own, his lips pulled back in a snarl and his eyes black with rage. He's seen his Commander's teeth stained red with blood, both his own and his prey's; his Galra arm dripping life from twitching fingertips and his chest heaving.

 

He's been there for the aftermath, when the feral light bleeds from Shiro's eyes and he remembers his humanity. Keith has washed his face and cleaned his wounds when Shiro refused a healing pod, their silence comfortable and filled with things they've never needed to say. Things Keith doesn't know how to say. Declarations he's spit as half-truths past clenched teeth, his heart guarded and his stomach in knots. He tacks on familial endearments because they offer safety, but he knows that Shiro knows. He can see it in those stormy eyes, like a gentle fire that burns only for him.

 

Shiro is an Alpha who doesn't have to prove himself. Keith is a feral cub who fought his way to that kind of respect, clawing and tearing through any who mocked him until others found out it was safer to give him a wide berth. And Shiro waited on the other side, looked at him and _knew_ , and Keith bared his teeth at him but never attempted to take a bite. He's proved himself to Shiro in other ways throughout the years, and the man was patient. He earned Keith's trust. His loyalty. He let them move at Keith's pace, waiting with an outstretched palm until the day Keith's wary growls turned to inquisitive rumbles. Until he came close enough for Shiro's fingers to run through his hair, blunt nails scratching at his scalp, and Keith learned what it meant to be warm.

 

\---

 

When they spar, it's _fun_ more than training, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

 

Shiro is warmth at his back, rumbling low in his chest. His teeth are closed against Keith's nape, a warning and a promise simultaneously.

 

_I can, but I never will._

 

“I yield,” Keith murmurs, turning his head just enough to look up at the older Paladin. Shiro's eyes are like thunderstorms, though for the moment they're banked and harmless. His smile is lopsided and sheepish when he sits back on his haunches, his teeth carefully covered. Keith pushes up and turns to face his friend, licking away a drop of blood at the corner of his mouth. Shiro sees -- he always will -- and the guilt is like a lightning flash through the storm.

 

“When?” He reaches up with his human hand, cups Keith's cheek and pulls his lip down gently to see the damage himself. Keith licks at the wound again, tongue fluttering against the tip of Shiro's thumb, and listens to the rumble of thunder brewing in his friend's chest.

 

“When you flipped me.” Keith hasn't lied to Shiro in a long, long time. There's been no need. It's a trust that was hard-won, but has been his unshakeable foundation since the day he looked at the man and his instincts purred _kin_ rather than snarling _threat_. “Bit it when I hit the mat.”

 

“Ice?” Shiro rubs his jaw, fingers touching an ache that Keith knows will be blue-black by tonight. He'll wear it with pride, a mark of his continued survival; proof that he can old his own and give back just as good as he gets. He can see a similar mark darkening at the curve of Shiro's neck where it meets his shoulder and reaches up to brush his fingers over it.

 

“Nah.”

 

He watches Shiro's eyes glint with amusement, another answering rumble coming from his own throat. They stand almost in sync, drifting close because Keith isn't wary of touch if it's Shiro. He presses into it, rubs his forehead against the other Paladin's collarbone and arches into the broad palm that sweeps up and down his back in return.

 

“Sweaty,” Shiro breathes, nosing at his temple. Keith huffs, pointedly tugging on a damp patch of his friend's shirt. He enjoys the laugh that follows, a rough chuff that Shiro presses into his hair along with a nuzzle.

 

This isn't normal _friend_ behavior, Keith is sure. He's never been like this with anyone else, but no one else has ever been _Shiro_. He's certainly never seen Shiro act this way toward any of the others. This slice of affection is theirs alone, and Keith soaks it up like a sunbath, letting it warm his skin and relax his muscles.

 

Licking sweat from Shiro's neck is almost instinctive; he doesn't stop to think about it until it's already done and over with. Keith doesn't tense, but he does wait. An apology sits sour at the back of his mouth because he doesn't want to lie to Shiro, but he doesn't want _this_ to go away because he's forgotten himself.

 

Shiro's answering rumble is the loudest yet, like thunder rolling directly overhead. Keith shivers, waiting for the lightning strike, only to relax when Shiro licks his forehead; drops his nose to nuzzle at the corner of Keith's eye and lick away the sweat at his hairline too.

 

“Shower?” he asks quietly, fingertips dragging up Keith's spine and tapping back down -- like raindrops but so much warmer. Keith hums, almost a purr, and Shiro laughs quietly for him. “Shower, Keith,” the Paladin says, firm.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” It takes so much to step away, to check himself and not crowd closer until he and Shiro breathe as one. It seems to take just as much effort for Shiro to let him go, his fingers hesitant to leave until he forces them to. When Keith looks up, he searches for the storm in Shiro's eyes and smiles when he sees it swirling just under the calm.

 

“Dinner then?”

 

Shiro smiles, wide and warm. “Of course. Ten?”

 

“Seven, sir.” Keith says, just to tease. Just to watch Shiro's eyes brighten and hear him laugh a little louder.

 

“Five, brat,” he counters, and Keith grins wide, teeth showing but lips relaxed -- an innocent non-threat that Shiro beams at the sight of. He wipes away another droplet of blood, movements quick, but Keith doesn't flinch back. He watches and shudders when Shiro licks his thumb clean, his muscles coiled eagerly until he forces himself to relax again.

 

“Five,” he agrees, and Shiro's pleased rumble is better than any kiss.

 

They may not be _together_ , not like Keith was used to seeing between couples on Earth, but they're _something_. It doesn't have a label aside from _friendship_ and _trust_ , but he's pretty sure they don't need one. They're _Shiro_ and _Keith_. _Keith_ and _Shiro_.

 

Everything else is inconsequential.


End file.
